


Room to Grow

by dawnheart



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Bad Coping Skills, Break Up, Depression, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, Make Up, Mild Hurt/Comfort, turning it around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 05:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10404483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnheart/pseuds/dawnheart
Summary: Sara thinks she and Michele are stronger apart than together. What happens if Emil feels the same about he and Michele?





	

Every Monday, Michele drew himself up to full height and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked pale. Green. Sickly. Like he had been binge-drinking the whole weekend.  (He had.) But he knew it was time to move on. Pick himself back up. He was a new man. He couldn’t keep hurting like this. He couldn't keep doing this. 

He had to move on but he didn’t know how. He didn’t want to face the vast loneliness of life. He couldn’t be alone.

This was a new development. “A” new development. As if there had only been one. As if he just added a new shirt to his rotation, or something. No, the rug had been tugged from underneath him. His world had been turned upside down. Out of water. Parched. Dehydrated, and flapping limply on the shore. He knew he was a spectacle. He knew that because everyone loved Sara (why wouldn’t they? It was also the bane of his existence that she was so lovable) they knew of him. They knew too much about him. He was too easy to read. And he hoped no one knew exactly what was going on between Sara and him but what else was there to get, really? Other than what was at face value. Sara wanted to spend time with other people. That was good. Psychologically it was good. It was good to socialize with many different people in order to become well-adjusted and function properly in society. But if he and Sara had grown up the same, why was she so good at it, and he so bad?

He thought he was fine with being alone. He thought he liked it. But he guessed he never realized that alone always meant “with Sara.” He didn’t ever consider that Sara wasn’t a part of him. That there could be something more alone than just him and Sara. It was stupid. So stupid. To even think that. Was he still three years old? He might not have emotionally aged since he was a toddler. That’s why he was having so many problems. But what could he do about it now? How could he fix that?

The fresh, crisp air should make him happy. He inhaled the cold. It seeped into his head, through winter-pale cheeks, through his cracked lips, through his faint fluttering eyelids. 

He went to class and didn’t feel a thing. Didn’t hear a thing. At least not that he could remember. His brain was working in the background. He had filled up pages of notes but did not feel as if he had attended any classes at all. The people floated around him like bubbles: inconsequential, instantly disappearing.

He stopped going to lunch. His acquaintances who insisted on inviting him everywhere stopped texting as often. He didn’t eat much.  He went to class and then went back to his dorm to do homework.  His roommate and him got along because they didn’t talk to each other. They weren’t friends. They set the ground rules on the first few days of meeting about who would vacuum when and at first his roommate had been resistant to the idea. Michele could see when someone decided to hate him. Now, it didn’t make a difference since Michele’s room wasn’t messy necessarily, but it was a disaster for his usual standards. He didn’t dust anything. He kept up the group cleaning schedule but did nothing of his own. His roommate might have noticed. His roommate started asking him what was wrong but Michele didn’t say anything and the roommate stopped asking. 

He went to fill his water bottle at the water filling station. It was right in front of the elevators. Usually people didn’t try to say hi to him anymore.  They didn’t smile or acknowledge him. They knew he wasn’t going to say anything back. He wished he didn’t have to be in the middle of everything, a spectacle for everyone, but at the same time, if they didn’t acknowledge him, why would they care?

He heard the ding of the elevators arriving and heard the doors open. He stiffened, wondering but realizing he shouldn’t care about who was exiting. No one said anything to him. He exhaled slightly. He closed his water bottle. He could make it back to his room safely.

“Hey, bud.”

Michele’s heart jumped. His foot made a weird aborted movement in the air as if unsure of whether to keep walking away or stop and turn around. He never wanted Emil to see him like this. Or ever. Instead, he just stood still for a moment, though still facing away.

“Don’t call me that.”

Emil walked in front of him and faced him. Michele stared at the open double-doorway behind the other boy. He did not want to look at him. 

“What’s up?”

The same meaningless tiresome things. “Nothing.”

“Cool, cool. Same, honestly.”

Michele did not think they were the same. Finally he glanced slightly closer to Emil’s direction. Dirty blonde hair framed his entire head like a helmet of birds nests: dainty but jagged, twigs and branches woven together to create something, possibly a mess, but adorning his head like a crown.

“Have you eaten?”

As if Emil needed to know anything. As if Emil knew anything about his life. “No.”

“Want to get something to eat together?”

Michele felt something catch in his throat. He glanced out the huge windows that lined the walls of the corridor. He stared into the street. The sky was, dingy pigeon gray. The clouds were sparse, almost immaterial. The world was blanketed in a sluggish frozen stupor. “No, I can’t.”

“Alright.” Emil’s voice was a blast of sunshine, like flashing lights in the dark. Michele felt blinded, under a spotlight. “Want to study together later?”

“Don’t think I will be able to.”

“Alright.” Michele tried to decipher the tone of the word. Slightly sad? Emil was so happy that slightly sad for him still sounded jubilant and ecstatic. “I’ll see you around.”

If Michele had it his way, he would say “not likely.” But mathematically and based on past experiences, they would see each other around. Probably soon. No matter what Michele might to do try to avoid the boy. There wasn’t much he could do. Also he didn’t have  time or energy to waste effort on Emil. Also, they lived in the same building, so. “See you.”

He went into his room and hid. He read his textbooks. He hoped he was remembering anything. He thought throwing himself into work was better than being sad. His mind was filled with emptiness. He was so alone.

  
  
  
  
  


There was a knock on his door. Michele had woken up from a nap. He was ruining his sleeping schedule but what was sleeping? Why not? It would be winter break soon, anyway.  And life did not matter at all.

He was surprised at the knock. His roommate wasn’t here. And no one knocked for him.

He got up and felt disgusted at himself for a moment. His mouth tasted disgusting. His hair was probably a mess. He probably had sleep grit in his eyes and he was wearing old pajamas and no shoes. The perfect way to represent how he felt on the inside: trash.

He opened the door. Emil was there, smiling like a dental advertisement, with a plastic bag of something in his hands. 

“Hey, Mickey!”

Michele’s throat felt like it was coated in tar. He tried to speak and he sounded like there was a towel stuffed in his mouth. “Don’t call me that.”

“I brought you some soup. I hadn’t seen you around today.”

He had been studying. And almost not going to class. Definitely only leaving the dorm for class.

“That’s not necessary.”

“Don’t worry, I already got it. Please accept it.”

“You don’t have to—”

“You have to eat. You need your strength for finals!”

Michele’s head swam, maybe with the scent of the soup, so potent, that it was almost as if he were already drowning in it. “Okay.”

“Great!” Emil glowed like the summer sun in middle of December. Michele wished he could feel warmer but he just shivered. 

“Here,” Emil said unnecessarily, shoving the package at Michele.

“Thanks.”

“Can I come in?”

Just say no. Just say no. “I guess.”

Emil smiled. “Cool.”

Michele stepped aside so Emil could come in. Michele closed the door behind him.

“Whoa. Things are pretty bad, huh?”

Michele didn’t know why Emil would assume that. They were. But it was Michele’s problem to solve.

“No response? Okay.”

Michele just wanted to eat in peace. Was that too hard to ask?

Michele sat at his desk to begin his meal. Emil hovered around.

“You can sit at his desk,” Michele said, pointing at his roommate's side of the room. “He won’t mind.”

“Okay, great,” Emil said. “I was just about to ask.”

Michele opened the soup. The steam warmed his face and he smiled.

“Hey, there he is!” Emil said.

Michele closed the soup.

“No, no, wait—”

“I am not a child,” Michele glowered.

“Okay. I know. I never said you were.”

“Don’t treat me like one.”

Michele’s anger was like a thunderstorm, completely overpowering Emil’s rays of sunshine. The words hung between them for a long time, like humidity after a storm. 

“I’m sorry.”

Michele opened the soup and took a sip.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s fine. Thank you.”

Emil hummed. He must be happy again. Michele wondered what that felt like.

“I feel like we haven’t talked in a really long time. I have been worried about you.”

Michele didn’t know what Emil wanted in response to that.

Emil pressed on. “You been busy with school?” 

Michele felt cornered. “We all have.”

“Okay,” Emil said, nodding emphatically, as if Michele had revealed the secrets of the universe. “Just asking. We haven’t really hung out, so I was just wondering.”

Michele stirred the soup. He had one hand around the bowl, and was leeching off of its heat, and a spoon in the other. He stared straight ahead at the plain cork board that rose from the edge of his desk to where a shelf was attached. “Okay.”

The beat where no one was talking was filled with Michele slurping. He felt ashamed and disgusted at himself. 

“So, you’re okay?” Emil asked.

Michele took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“You don’t seem to be,” Emil said without hesitation.

Michele’s back tensed. “None of your business.”

“Why not?” Emil asked. “We are friends.”

“We don’t hang out.” Michele felt like they were playing cat and mouse but he didn’t know who was which.

“Yeah, that’s why I was asking!” Emil said as if they had agreed on something. “We used to. You, me, and—”

Michele stood up. Drops of soup splattered onto the grainy wooden table. “You need to go.”

Emil was apparently stunned into a few moments of silence. “What?” he finally asked.

“Thank you for the soup,” Michele said.

Emil stood too. “Michele—” he protested.

“Good bye.” Michele walked towards the door and opened it. He stared at the wall in front of him. He felt Emil near, as if he was trying to approach a wounded animal. His broad shoulders entered Michele’s vision.

“Let me know if there’s anything else I can do. Bye, Mickey.”

Michele closed the door and thought he should throw away the soup. Instead, he wiped up the splatter, and finished the rest ravenously, but hated himself through every second. He got back in bed and opened his textbook again. He almost wished for the feeling of being empty emotionless tin can that he was only an hour ago. Now he felt like he had to repress a flood of every emotion he had ever felt, or every emotion he had tried not to feel. He was too tired to deal with this.

  
  
  
  
  


Eventually, Michele’s room began to smell bad. Too bad to ignore. At some point he had just woken up and become completely aware of the smell of depression and he just couldn’t stand it anymore. He was so disgusted with himself. He of course smelled like that, too. The smell wouldn’t necessarily evade him if he left the room but it wouldn’t be as strong, maybe, if he was out in the open air, or something. But even when he showered, he could not wash of the cloak of depression. It was like a skintight coat of grime that could never be rubbed away. Soap or perfume only masked it, but everything smelled worse when paired with depression. 

So, to ignore his problems further, he went to the library.  It was nice to study there. He could pretend he was with people. But at the same time they had no interest in him so he didn’t have to pretend to be defensive. 

He got a few texts from Emil, asking where he was, if he had eaten, the usual. Emil sent him a minimum of five texts a day. Michele usually did not respond. Mostly, because eventually, Michele would see Emil in the hallway of the dormitory or on the street, or something. He always asked, “how are you?” and “do you want to hang out?” and “what’s up?” A few memorable times he even sent, “if there’s anything wrong, maybe I can help.”

Michele responded to none of them.

He meandered on his way home after at least having done the bare minimum at the library. He was feeling like the was getting somewhere. Not with his life or emotional problems. But with school. He made a huge dent in an essay due at the end of the week and studied the hardest chapters for two different tests Overall, he could say that he had done far above the bare minimum, especially in his state. 

“Hey, Mickey!”

He gasped. He heard Emil’s pattering footsteps on the pavement. Emil threw his arms around Michele and hugged him tightly. Michele froze. He was terrified that Emil could smell the despair on him.

“Look at you, out and about,” Emil said, voice dripping like an ice cream sundae.

“Get off of me.”

“I’m so glad to see you,” Emil said, though he did stop hugging him, and left a heavy arm draped over Michele’s shoulders. For a moment, Michele felt like he couldn’t move or else he would be acknowledging that Emil was on him.  Then he shrugged and wriggled out from underneath Emil.

“Hey, I’m about to go to therapy dog Tuesday,” Emil said. “Want to come?”

What was that, even? “No, I—”

“Have you ever been?” Emil asked excitedly.

Michele grit his teeth. “No.”

“Then just come inside and look at it,” Emil cajoled. “Just five minutes. You can leave right after if you want.”

He should have said now. Why didn’t he say no? “Okay.”

“Great!” Emil cried. He jostled Michele’s shoulder. “Come on, hurry up!” Emil practically ran down the street, and Michele did not want to look so stupid and undignified as that. Emil might be able to pull of the twelve year old in college look but Michele could not look like a fool. People already hated him. Everyone would like Emil no matter what he did.

They entered the building and there were too many people here. Michele needed to leave.

As soon as he had the thought, he felt Emil’s arm around his wrist. He felt the faint patter of his heart against the soft skin there, against Emil’s rough fingers.

“Five minutes,” Emil whispered in his ear and Michele shivered. The yellow lights glistened like he was on stage. Dirty, and ragged, and everyone probably knew he was suffering. And for what? For being an awful brother.

But then, through the crowds of people, he saw them: dogs. Dogs everywhere. So many dogs.

They were calm dogs. They were sitting or lying on the ground, some tongues lolled out, some panting, some eyes darting. Some looked scared. Michele felt bad for them.

“Which one do you want to pet?” Emil asked, eyes glazing over. He looked like he was in heaven. Michele felt a pang of longing.

“What?” Michele asked. His tongue felt like an automated machine that hadn't been used in fifty years. He could practically hear the gears straining to turn. 

“Don’t you want to pet one?” Emil asked, voice almost as longing as Michele felt, though they were obviously for different things.

“I’ll just watch. You can pet one.”

“Okay,” Emil said, and Michele was surprised. Apparently dogs were really important to Emil. He knew that already. He probably did anyway. Emil dashed to a dog with not that many kids around it. Michele followed at a slower pace. Emil was talking to the dog and to its owner alternatively, telling the dog and its owner how great it was that they could be here. He talked to the owner about the process of their dog becoming a therapy dog. Emil could strike a conversation with anyone. He could make anyone fall in love with him. The dog looked at him as if he had hung the moon. He had, and the stars and all the planets as well.

“Michele, come over here,” Emil said.

Michele felt like he walked on a high wire as he crossed the room towards Emil. 

“Pet her! She is so nice.”

Michele crouched down next to Emil. Their shoulders brushed.

“Her name is Bailey and she is the best.”

Michele stared at the black and white dog. She stared at him with calm eyes. He was not as calm. He pressed his shoulder for firmly against Emil. He almost lost his balance. He staggered back, and almost fell on his butt. He placed his palms on the ground to support himself. 

Emil put a hand on his shoulder and forearm. “Are you okay?”

Michele’s throat was like a desert. Maybe he was allergic to dogs. “Can we go now?” Michele asked.

“Oh. Yeah, sure, if you want. One sec. I’ll be right there.”

Michele stood up quickly and rushed to the exit. He waited outside in the cold and tried to stop his beating heart. What was wrong with him?

“Oh, hey, Michele.”

Michele turned around and saw Emil walk towards him. 

“I thought you already left.”

Right. Why hadn't he done that?

“Were you okay in there?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. You going home now?”

“Yeah.”

They walked together in silence for a while. Michele looked at their reflections in the store windows as they passed. Emil wore a white and blue hat with a pompom on top and had his hands in the pockets of his puffy black coat. He wore dark jeans tucked into huge bright red sneakers and looked down, a little forlorn.

That made Michele’s breath catch in his throat. Was his sadness rubbing off on Emil? Then why was Emil trying to annoy him so much?

“Michele.”

He tried not to appear startled. “What.” He saw Emil watching him with sea blue eyes. Pink appeared on his snowy skin, like kisses from the cold. Michele felt a heat in his chest.

“You...are you afraid of dogs?”

Michele looked away, cotton balls filling brain. “Yes.”

“You should have told me.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I’m sorry I made you to go therapy dog Tuesday when you are afraid of dogs. I’m such an ass.”

“It’s fine.”

“What kind of monster—”

“Emil,” Michele said firmly. 

Emi’s breath left his lips slowly, vapor curling in front of his face. Michele looked at his bottom lip, his honey brown beard almost hidden by his high collared jacket.

“You aren’t,” Michele said. “You are stupid and dumb maybe but you aren’t a monster.”

For a moment, only the sound of their feet on the pavement filled the air between them.

Then Emil scoffed.

“What?”

“Love you too, Mickey.”

Michele’s cheeks heated up and he burrowed under his scarf further. “I—”

“You’re that cold?” Emil interrupted. He put his arm around Michele and squeezed him to his side.

“Get off me.”

Emil did no such thing. “I’m very warm,” he said instead..

“People are staring.” Michele did not know that because he was staring at the ground but they probably were.

Emil made a noise of discovery. “So if no one was looking…”

“That is not what I said,” Michele snapped softly and walked faster to get out of Emil’s grip.

“Your loss.”

They were almost to their dorm.

“You want to grab dinner first?” Emil asked.

Michele looked down the block. He could see their dorm. He turned back to Emil. He drowned in his eyes and said yes.

  
  
  
  
  


Michele went to therapy dog Tuesdays with Emil. He stayed far away from the dogs. But he also realized these dogs were highly trained professionals. He trusted them with Emil. Emil loved them. Emil would have loved any dog even if it bit his face off. Emil would call it a kiss. He thought he might be getting better. He still freaked out when Sara tried to talk to him. It was hard for both of them—not talking ever. Especially when they used to all the time. 

But he couldn’t, yet. Not yet. He couldn’t slide back into his old ways of hurting her.

He could do it. He knew he could. He could be what she wanted him to be. He could still be there for her in the new way. He could do what she wanted. 

He sighed. It was the last week of school before winter break. He normally couldn't be happier about that. He needed the break desperately. Normally, back when he was young and stupid and naive, he loved winter break because he could just spend time with Sara and no one else and bond and relax and it was his favorite thing. As usual. Anything with Sara was his favorite thing.  But this year, Sara was going on a trip with her friends. And Michele wasn’t coming. For the first time, Sara was actually getting what she wanted.

His happiness at her happiness was shattered by the fact that he was horrible.

He wanted to let himself hurt. He wanted to be “understanding” to himself and “not too hard on himself” for hurting. But did he even deserve that? He had driven Sara to “breaking them up” because he had been suffocating her for all these years. He hadn't been letting her live.  Her life had passed her by all because of him. He didn’t let her be happy. All he wanted was for her to be happy but she was happiest without him. And where did that leave him? 

In trying to be the “best brother” and “protect” her, he actually ended up being the worst brother. An enemy. 

And it was pretty shocking. He had to somehow disentangle their lives which Sara seemed to be doing just fine with but somehow he had not achieved the same success. “Somehow.” More like “obviously.” Every waking moment of every day had always been “Sara” and now that he didn’t have that, he was like a fish out of water—not just uncomfortable or out of place, but suffocating. Dying. Just like water was the last thing a fish would notice, his dependence on Sara was the last thing he noticed, until it was ripped away from him.  Whenever thoughts about that did creep up in the past, it frightened him. So he bad been at least a little aware. But he was a coward. He wasn’t brave enough to tease apart the problem and actually solve it. He just hid from his problems. He his from life. And risk. He was no hero. He was no protector. How could he ever have the illusion that he was some kind of knight in shining armor for Sara? 

If they had talked more, he would have known about this. And why did he feel so betrayed? He thought ht was over it. Just when he thought he was making progress…

He thought winter break might be a nice time to reset and recoup but maybe he could just continue his self-destructive habits and all would be well. (Terrible.)

  
  
  
  
  


It was strange at first, realizing that Emil and he would be going to the same college. They knew each other from high school mostly because Emil was trying to be friends with Sara and Michele would not allow it. And then eventually Emil became friends with all three of them. And when Sara wanted to split up, Michele had assumed she meant from all of them. And at first that had been the case. Sometimes Sara and Emil hung out which Michele only knew about far afterwards. He couldn’t even be mad but he still felt betrayed. Emil hadn't thought to mention it to him? But then again, maybe Emil just didn’t want to hurt him.

He put the thought away.

Because clearly Emil had wanted to do that.

Michele was actually looking forward to possibly spending more time with Emil (imagine that, right?) over winter break but then learned Emil also wouldn’t be coming home for break.

So now what was he supposed to do? Now he was abandoned by both people he loved most.

He felt his heart heave.

Love? He couldn’t let someone get this close again. It wasn’t safe. He couldn’t be stupid. So he hid in his room and returned no calls or texts and when his parents went to see a musical out of town with some friends and offered to take him he refused and instead scoured the alcohol cabinet and got to work on himself.

  
  
  
  
  
  


When he woke up the sunlight filtered through the cracks in the blinds like honey rolling off the ridges of the opening of the jar. His back ached. He stretched slightly and it hurt way too much. He took a deep breath and felt marbles roll around in his brain. He reached for his phone but hadn’t brought it down into the basement with him. The tv was still on, but muted, or at least very quiet. He didn’t recognize the channel or the show. 

He shifted his muscles slowly, terrified of not being able to get up on his own. Terrified of being found like this. 

Eventually he was able to get up. He went to the bathroom and peed and felt so dehydrated he panicked again. It was painful. He didn’t bring a water bottle downstairs with him so he scurried up the steps and filled a glass and chugged it. He filled the glass again and brought it upstairs with him and into his room. He found his phone. He woke up to a couple of missed calls and several texts. His first instinct was instant panic. Sara was trying to get ahold of him and he was asleep. He was worthless. Such a stupid brother. He should go to hell.

He unlocked his phone. 

The phone calls were from Emil. The texts were, too.

Emil: hey!!! Im home now! Want to do something?

Emil: mickey respond!!!

Emil: r u ignoring me? :(

Emil: r u ok????

Emil: r u sick? Do u need a get well meal? I can bring u something.

Emil: let me know when u get these. Im worried about you. 

He exhaled. He sat on the floor. He felt too dirty for his bed. He rested his head against the bed frame. It was very uncomfortable.

Michele: im not sick.

He considered sending more. He didn’t. 

He showered and did not feel that much better. He went downstairs to see if he could make breakfast but everything was too much effort.

His phone buzzed.

Emil: if ur sure. Do u still want to meet up over break?

Michele should probably just not respond as usual. Which he never did. He should stop pretending he would.

Michele: i guess. 

He got an immediate reply.

Emil: okay!! When?

Michele: whenever 

Which basically meant now, and Michele tried to prepare himself for whatever was to come. 

  
  
  
  
  


Emil showed up at his door a half hour later. Michele let him in and they sat on one of the couches in the living room.

“How has your break been?”

Michele snorted inwardly. Did honestly even matter? Did anything even matter? Did it matter at all what Michele said? 

“I thought you weren’t coming home for break.”

He risked a glance to his right. Emil looked alert. Maybe confused and scared. Or maybe that was just how Michele felt every day of his life.

“Oh? Why did you think that?”

Michele rolled his tongue around in his mouth. It felt like it didn’t belong to him. “You said you weren’t coming home.”

Emil gave him a blank look, almost like he was running an algorithm, trying to figure out what Michele meant. Not that Michele was being anything other than straightforward. It wasn’t his fault if Emil was stupid. He winced inwardly at his own completely innaccurate, though also completely childish, insult. 

“Michele,” Emil said slowly. “Immediately. I wasn’t coming immediately. That’s what I said. I’m obviously home now.”

Michele scrunched up his nose. “I can see that.”

They sat in silence for a few moments. Emil looked at him expectantly. Michele stared at the blank screen of the TV. He saw their distorted reflections.

“I think you’re mad at me,” Emil said slowly and Michele felt the words crawl up his back. 

Emil waited as if it was Michele’s turn to talk.

Michele did not speak.

“Okay,”  Emil said, as if he had. “I’m not sure why you are mad. I wish you would talk to me so we could figure out.”

“What’s there to figure out,” Michele muttered.

Emil was silent. It irked Michele this time. Something shifted between them. He wasn’t sure what it was yet. And he was afraid.

“This isn’t you,” Emil said.

“How would you know—”

“Alright, then. Maybe you’re right.” 

Michele felt an anvil drop on his heart.

“The way I see it—which may be completely wrong because what do I know anyway?—you think you are so mysterious and misunderstood. You aren’t. We have all been there. Just because I don’t have a twin doesn’t mean I don’t know what you are going through.”

That was it. Michele stood up. “You could never know what I have been through,” Michele snarled.

“Maybe I would if you would just tell me!”

“If you can’t help, then why would I?”

Emil stood up, too. “Fine, then. If you don’t think I can, then you are probably right.”

He left the living room and walked to the front door. Michele watched his feet in socks pad across the floor.

Emil shoved his feet into his shoes and put on his coat, hat, and gloves. He put a hand on the doorknob. He turned back. “I am sorry I bothered you.” He unlocked the door and left.

Michele walked to the door. He watched Emil walk to his car, get in, and drive away. He locked the door behind him. He went down into the basement and laid down on the couch, staring at the ceiling while the images on the TV flickered silently.

He had no destroyed his two most important relationships.

_ Congratulations. _

  
  
  
  
  


Back at school, the sadness returned with a vengeance. He just didn’t realize how new this would feel. How awful. How different. No one owed him anything. No one owed him love. Even his own sister, who loved and supported him through everything, did not have to do that. She did because she was a good person. She chose too.

Emil had even more of a choice. He could have never spoken to Michele ever. But he stayed. He persisted. Michele was awful to him at first, when he thought he was after Sara. He hadn't thought that in a long time. He hadn't seen them together in a long time. He, Sara, and Emil hadn't hung out together in a long time.

He hadn't been happy in a long time.

He went to therapy dog Tuesday on his own and saw Emil but he was always surrounded by way too many people and never caught Michele’s gaze. He didn’t run into Emil in the hallway anymore or on the street. When he did, Emil rushed by, without a word.

Michele didn’t know how he could go through another heartbreak.

He received zero texts. After a while, he sent a tentative “hey”, and hadn't received a response. Why did Emil hate him? Did he? He deserved to, but…

Michele had to be honest. He was horrible to Emil. But why was now the time to break? Was it too late? 

He had to talk to Emil. He had to make this right. He couldn’t go on like this. He hadn't lost Sara, though it had felt like it at first. But he couldn’t lose the only other person he loved, also.

And finally, he could understand. After he had lost the most important man in his life, he realized he loved him. Who else took care of him, but viewed him as a human, as capable, believed in him? Encouraged him? Made him laugh and made him try new things? Supported him and made him a better person?

But Michele could never do any of that for someone else. Emil deserved someone better. Someone amazing. 

But Michele could be a better friend. He had to be. He needed Emil in his life and wanted Emil in his life. He just needed to find a way to tell Emil that.

He texted Emil

Michele: can we talk?

Instead of waiting for a reply he went to the place where Emil got him soup, and bought some to bring with him. He went to Emil’s room and knocked.

His roommate opened the door. He glared at Michele. Michele wanted to shrink into his shoes but he forced himself to keep standing up straight. He squared his shoulders and looked his roommate in the eye. He nodded silently.

“Emil,” the roommate said, opening the door wider and letting Michele come in. Emil looked up in confusion and then a mask came over his face which shattered Michele’s heart. 

“What do you want?” Emil asked coolly.

“I brought you this,” Michele said.

Emil walked over and picked up the plastic bag and looked inside.  He looked at Michele with a carefully guarded expression. Michele stared at his face, trying to discern something. Anything. When did Emil learn to do this—be a robot? It hit Michele then that perhaps Emil chose to be happy all the time. And Michele didn’t really know him at all.

“Okay. Thanks,” Emil said. He put the food on his desk. “Is that all?”

Michele stared at Emil straight on, though every second longer he did felt like arrows piercing his heart. “I was wondering if we could talk.”

Emil glanced away. Michele followed his gaze quickly and saw Emil and his roommate in their own staring contest. Was Emil that close to his roommate? Michele felt caged, outnumbered. On high alert. Who was this guy anyway? How much did he know about Emil? Was he his shoulder to cry on?

“Fine. Let’s sit in the kitchenette.”

Michele had hoped for a more private place.”

“I can—” the roommate began.

“No need,” Emil cut him off harshly.

“It might be better—”

“I agree,” Michele said. Everyone stared at him and he froze like a startled deer.

“Okay, although no one asked you,” Emil said. He turned to his roommate. “Thanks,” Emil said.

The roommate nodded and gathered a few belongings and shut the door behind him.

Emil turned towards Michele, his hands over his chest.

“Okay,” Emil said. “What did you want to tell me?”

“I love you,” Michele said. Then wished he could swallow the words back up. He stared at Emil’s face while panic overtook his mind, suffocating him like a blanket.  

Emil stared back at him.

“What does that even mean, Michele?” Emil said, looking at the floor now.

Michele imagined a dam bursting. He needed to do this. “It means I need you.” 

“I don’t think that’s good enough,” Emil said turning away. “I think you need to go.”

“Emil, wait—” Michele said.

“Michele, no,” Emil said. “No more.”

“Emil, I can’t live without you.”

“Try harder.”

“Why are you mad at me? Let me fix it, please.”

Emil whirled around “Why?” he asked.

Michele hated himself for being stupid but he nodded.

“Please tell me.”

He had never seen Emil like this. He had never seen that kind of dark fire in his eyes. A heat. An anger.

“You,” Emil began, and died out again. He took a deep breath. “You,” he said and it sounded like an insult. A curse. “You are one of my closest friends. No, scratch that. You are my closest friend. I love you so much. I care about you so much. At some point, I was certain that you cared about me, too.”

“I do,” Michele cried.

“Maybe not enough,” Emil snapped. “At some point, I was able to give you the benefit of the doubt about not opening up since I know who you are—or at least at some point in my life, I thought I knew. But, how stubborn are you, really? I can’t keep worrying about you. I wish I could but I don’t have energy. I have to live my own life, too. I want to give my everything to you, but it’s not fair to me if it’s only one way.”

“I want to give everything to you,” Michele said.

“I don’t think you have anything to give, right now,” Emil said softly. 

Michele felt like that in this moment, too.

Emil coughed. “It took me a long time to see that. That it’s not fair. But sometimes things just don’t work out—and I’m basically just repeating what my friends have been saying to me all along. It’s taken me a long time to believe it. I still don’t want to believe it. But I have to take this step. I have to put myself first for once in my life.”

Michele felt like a bell that had just been rung—and felt that he might vibrate forever, and ever. The ringing in his ears, the thumping of his heart, it all made him dizzy. So very dizzy.

“If that is how you really feel,” Michele said. “All I want is for you to be happy. I just want to make you happy.”

Emil didn’t say anything.

“Go, Michele.”

Michele slunk away, tears at his eyes before he made it to the door.

  
  
  
  
  


Michele fixed himself. He cleaned his room. He did all his laundry. He washed his hair and got a haircut. He moisturized and organized his desk, backpack, notebook, and overall life. He started working out again. He went back on the ice and he wished he could have said it was like he never left, but he still loved it. It made him miss Sara. It made him miss her a lot. But he talked to her and faced the emotions head on. He missed her so much, on and off the ice. He loved her. They were still close. They would always be close. They would always be twins. Nothing could break that bond.  They were stronger now than ever before.

Michele worked on himself. He needed to find something to offer. He joined intramural soccer, and he wasn’t very good at it, but his team had fun and some of them played soccer for many years, so they were kind of like the coaches of the team. They did group work outs and got better together. He started tutoring a few hours a week at the campus’ tutoring center. He worked on being more open and kind. He was good at heart. He wasn’t evil. And he worked on it and tried and did his best. He couldn’t become a different person. But he could become the best person that he could be. He was still awkward and scared and anxious but he could trust more. He could try. He could try to put more faith in people. Even if it meant only sharing the same few facts about himself with everyone, at least it was something. It was a step. Living in fear was a hard habit to break, but he had to try. Even if he couldn’t be a better person for Emil, he had to become a better person for himself. Not even just for Sara, though she was very happy also. Michele was proud of that. Proud of himself. Happy that she was happy.

He could never lose another important person like Emil ever again. He couldn’t. 

He would never forget Emil. He couldn’t.

  
  
  
  
  


He loved the ice. He didn’t know how much he missed it until he came back. The scrape of the ice, the adrenaline of flying, the heat of his body, and the burning of his muscles—it was a safe trance, somewhere he could focus just on this, just on himself, pretend nothing else existed in the world, that there were no other problems, no other people, just him and the ice. 

And he lived in that illusion for a while. But then one day he saw Emil, and the reminder of the hurt returned.

He should not have been surprised to see Emil. Maybe surprised that this was the first time he saw Emil. He, Sara, and Emil shared the ice back in high school. It might have been why they got close. Though, not solely, since Michele wasn’t close with anyone else from the rink. No...it was just Emil.

He gulped. Should he leave? He should give Emil his space. Respect his wishes. He was a gentleman and he would act like one. He would be gracious and kind and accommodating.

He wanted to stare at Emil. It had been so long. It felt so long. He wanted to see what horrible fashion choices he was making or what he was snacking on or what kind of smile he was wearing, because he had many different kinds and each meant something else. Or if he was even smiling at all. He wanted to hear the clear tones of his voice, like the first birdsong of spring, and the bright spark of his laugh. He wanted to know how his day was going. He wanted to get lost in the oceans in his eyes.

But he couldn’t do any of that because he lost his chance. And he would have to be okay with that eventually.

It would be better to just leave. He did not make eye contact with Emil, who was alone, and he skated to the edge of the rink to hobble off to the benches.

“Hey, Mickey.”

The nickname sent a jolt through Michele’s heart. He turned back, blinding white hope unbalancing him, almost knocking him off his feet.

Emil’s gaze was cool. His face gave nothing away. Michele’s hope turned around and slapped himself in the face. Though Emil’s greeting might not have seemed particularly hostile from anyone else by any means, such a reserved greeting from Emil was downright wintery. 

But still. The nickname. But Emil never really called him anything else.

“Hi, Emil.”

“Fancy seeing you here,” Emil said, skating over to him. His mouth twitched, as if he couldn’t decide whether he was smiling or frowning.

“Yeah,” Michele agreed. He drew his pick in a half circle behind him. The awkwardness was something he had never experienced. Not with Emil. This was foreign and it made him feel disgusting. He did this. He was the reason why he wasn’t welcome here, in Emil’s world, anymore.

“How have you been?” Michele asked, wondering how much Emil could see in his eyes. How much he could hear in his voice.

“Good,” Emil said. “How about you?”

“Yeah,” Michele said. “It’s been interesting.”

“That’s good.” Emil said.

“Yeah,” Michele said. “I’m glad you’re doing well.”

“Me too.”

“Sara misses you.”

“Really? Did she say that to you? Because I just saw her yesterday.”

This was news to Michele. But, Sara never told him about her and Emil. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I miss you.”

Emil looked down.

“But,” Michele said quickly, “I know that’s not fair for me to say because to be happy and healthy, you need me gone. And I want you to be happy and healthy and live a good life. So, I’m going to go now.”

“Michele, wait,” Emil said, frustrated. “Look… I missed you, too.”

Michele waited, with an empty mind and heart. He couldn’t have his hopes dashed again. 

“I think the break has been good,” Emil said, “you seem to be doing really well.”

“Thanks. You, too.”

Emil scoffed. “I don’t know. I really miss you.  I miss hanging out with you. It was really bad that you didn’t trust me—”

“I did trust you.”

Emil’s eyes glittered. “But, you didn’t show that to me.”

Michele looked down. “Yeah.” He clenched his hands into fist, running the pads of his thumbs over his fingernails.

“I’m sorry,” Michele said. “I do trust you. I love you. I want to show you that and be there for you.” He swallowed hard over his throat closing up. “I want to be a friend to you.”

Emil stepped closer. “This is all I wanted. I just wanted you to open up to me. And trust me.”

“I want that, too.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”


End file.
